


It's Not Living (If It's Not With You)

by DumpsterSellout



Series: Its Not Living Universe [1]
Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Broken Bones, Early 70's, First Dates, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nonsense, Roger is an idiot and Brian is a nervous wreck, University AU, Vomiting, not graphic tho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-05
Updated: 2019-03-06
Packaged: 2019-11-12 07:58:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18006941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DumpsterSellout/pseuds/DumpsterSellout
Summary: Brian has a date with Roger. Roger wants to go rollerskating. Brian has never been rollerskating before.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Yay my first published work for Queen is a dumpster fire I wrote at 5 in the morning bc my gf wanted me to write it! Please also enjoy the fact that this was saved in my google docs under the title Roller Whore
> 
> Yes I did steal the title from the 1975 and yes I do know that song is about heroin
> 
> Please ignore the fact that this is garbage we just really like rollerskating and the aesthetic tm
> 
> Enjoy

Brian couldn’t believe it. He’d finally plucked up the courage to ask Roger out, making himself look presentable and rehearsing what he was going to say ahead of time and probably taking years off his life, practicing in front of the mirror, before tracking Roger down after a lecture and practically stalking him until he noticed he was there. And then, just as he was about to pop the question, hand practically tearing his hair out, Roger had spun around and spat out,  
“Hey, did you want to come out with me tomorrow night? Like, a date? They’ve opened the new roller rink in town and it would be cool to have someone to go with,” and he’d said it so coolly and calmly and with a little wink and obviously no preparation, and god Brian wanted to kill him, that was so like him. But, he couldn’t exactly say no, just because he wanted to ask him out himself, and he was so flustered that he’d only just managed to nod his head and creak out a strange noise. Roger had smirked and winked at him again, and he’d felt a scowl burning on his lips before it had blossomed into a shy smile, god, why had he had to fall for him, of all people, the stupid blond he’d been lusting after since Brian had joined Freddie’s little group. The stupid blond who’d punched a hole in the drywall in his flat when he’d been cross with Freddie and tried to patch it with masking tape, the man who had sincerely asked Brian if the moon was a star, and the man who had graciously pretended not to notice Brian undressing him with his eyes for the past few months as he’d slowly developed a painful crush on him. He just fluffed his hair and his stupid fur coat and grinned at him with his too-white teeth, waiting for an answer.  
“So, I’ll pick you up at six?” he asked, and Brian had just nodded again, leaving Roger looking at him expectantly, clearly waiting for a verbal answer.  
“Sounds fun, good, I mean. Six is fine,” he flubbed, his knuckles turning white with the grip he had on his textbook, and Roger had shot him a coy smile.  
“Alright, sounds fun-good to me too,” he’d said, what a fucking prat, and Brian had managed a nod before scurrying back of in the direction of the train station, frighteningly aware of his heartbeat thumping in his ears. He’d had to sit down on the train to avoid fainting, he really thought he might, and it took him until he got home to realise that he’d never been rollerskating in his entire life.

He’d called Freddie in a panic almost the second he’d realised, anxiously twirling the coiled cord round and round his finger until the tip of it turned purple, letting out a breath when he heard Freddie’s camp voice answer the phone with a sing song,  
“Yeeees?”  
“Fred, thank god it’s you and not Rog,” he breathed, dropping down into the chair by the phone.  
“Oh, Brian good! Did he ask you?” Freddie asked, and he could practically hear the cheshire cat grin over the phone. He almost choked on his tongue.  
“You knew he was going to ask me out?! Why didn’t you say!” He lowered his voice when he heard Deaky coming into his own flat, stretching out a long leg to kick the kitchen door shut.  
“Why didn’t you say?” he repeated in a hushed tone when the door slammed shut, and he heard Freddie snicker.  
“Deaky’s back?” He asked, and Brian made a noise of affirmation, eyeing the archway at the other end of the kitchen to be sure he wasn’t coming in.  
“I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to ruin the surprise! Besides, I knew you were wanting to ask him and I kind of wanted to see who’d get there first,” Brian could hear the smirk in his voice, and he let out a long sigh.  
“You’re a prick, you know that?” Brian sighed, hearing him laugh, going back to twirling the cord when the line went silent for a moment.  
“Freddie,” he said suddenly, anxiety sending his mind swirling into a whirlpool of unconnected thoughts, “I haven’t the first clue how to roller skate.” He heard Freddie tut on the other end of the line.  
“He really asked you there? I told him not to, honestly,” he sighed, presumably rolling his eyes on the other end of the line.  
“You knew he was going to ask me there and you didn’t warn me!? I could have come up with an excuse!” Brian exclaimed, bringing his voice back down when he heard Deaky shifting about in the other room, remembering that he wasn’t alone.  
“No! He made me promise not to, oh it’s adorable Brian he’s so excited to show off for you, he’s convinced it’ll make you really like him,”  
“I already do really like him, Freddie, trouble is he isn’t going to really like me when he sees me being carted off in an ambulance with a broken arse,” he hissed, eliciting a barked laugh from Freddie on the other end of the phone.  
“It’s not going to be that bad, honestly darling,” Freddie assured him, “it isn’t that hard. The first five minutes are the worst, but you’ll get the hang of it.”  
“It’s tomorrow Freddie, I haven’t any time to even go down there and practise, he’s going to see me falling all over the place like a prat, it’s going to ruin everything,” he said, sounding miserable.  
“Brian, he’s not going to be focusing on you, he’s going to be too busy trying not to fall on his own arse doing tricks for you,” he said with a chuckle, and Brian’s shoulders dropped a little bit.  
“You think?” he asked softly, sounding a little bit relieved.  
“I know so, he’s been practising his spins in the dining room for days,” he snickered, and that had Brian chuckling picturing it, not sure if Freddie was being serious or not.  
“Darling, do relax, he’s absolutely head over heels for you. If anything he’ll take the opportunity to play white knight and use it as an excuse to hold your hand the entire time,” that was a thought that had Brian blushing, stupidly, and a sheepish smile forming.  
“Yeah, maybe,” he grinned, letting out a soft sigh.  
“He’s so endeared by you, he’s practically swooning at the thought of watching you fall all over yourself anyway, he called it adorable,” Freddie said, and Brian groaned.  
“Alright, fine,” Brian grumbled, wondering how much Roger had spilled to Freddie.  
“Oh I’m picturing it now, you’ll fall on your arse and he’ll swoop in and pick you up, sweeping you off your feet, and in a moment of wild passion-”  
“Goodbye, Fred,” Brian sighed, rolling his eyes, not wanting to listen to another one of Freddie’s erotic recounts of his own life, hanging up the phone mid sentence. He half expected it to ring again, but when it didn’t after a few minutes, he flicked on the kettle and opened the door again. He saw Deaky smiling into the kitchen expectantly.  
“Another private natter with Fred?” he asked, and Brian just nodded, looking anywhere but his eyes.  
“Don’t worry, didn’t hear a thing,” he smiled, Brian knew he was probably lying, but he just nodded and made him a cup of tea, flopping down into his armchair beside Deaky.  
“So, go on then,” he said expectantly, taking his tea and sitting back. Brian had a weird expression on his face, he was wondering how asking out Roger had gone.  
“Go on with what?” Brian asked, feigning ignorance, and Deaky rolled his eyes.  
“You know exactly what,” he wasn’t usually the nosey type, but he knew that if he didn’t get it out of him he’d be weird all night, and he just wanted to relax and watch telly, maybe get a curry, not watch his flatmate floating around like an airhead.  
“Oh, yeah, about the, mm,” Brian nodded, pretending it had taken a moment for him to catch on.  
“Well, for starters, he asked me out,”  
“Prick,” Deaky interjected quickly, and he grinned.  
“I know,” he sighed, glad Deaky was on the same page as him.  
“He invited me out tomorrow, which is ridiculous, he hasn’t given me any time to prepare,” he added, Deaky punctuating his faux complaining with an understanding,  
“Mmhm,” and Brian went on, barely able to hold back the giddy grin on his face.  
“And, get this, he’s invited me roller skating!” he finished.  
“The nerve!” Deaky gasped, before his face fell back to a neutral expression, before tilting his head to the side.  
“What’s the problem then, Bri, sounds like you’ve got a lovely date lined up. What about that is so terrible you had to have a private chat with your confidant?” he asked, taking a sip from his cup of tea, still too hot, he thought.  
“It’s silly, I was worried about the roller skating thing, but Freddie talked me into it,” he smiled, leaning forward to turn on the TV set.  
“I mean, it is a bit of a wanky venue for a first date,” he commented, and Brian nodded in agreement.  
“But then again I’ve never met someone who pulls off wanky quite as well as Roger does,” he added with a smirk, and Brian hit him on the leg.  
“Oi,” he warned, no real heat to his voice. Deaky just shrugged apologetically, holding up the paper menu for the Indian place down the road expectantly, and the conversation went somewhere else.

Brian had been trying on outfits all day, as appalling gay as that was, he realised, but he didn’t care. He was thinking himself into quite the panic, throwing shirt after shirt onto his bed, the chaos and mess only causing his stress to come to a head when Deaky knocked on his door to let him know it was 5.30, and he snapped.  
“Yes, John,” he practically spat, a layer of venom to his voice, “I can tell the time, and I’m quite aware Roger will be here soon.” Deaky didn’t seem phased, giving him an eye roll and a tired sounding sigh.  
“Somebody’s bitchy,” he commented, earning a glare from Brian, and if looks could kill, he’d be halfway buried by now.  
“Sorry, Brian, no need to panic. Roger would like you if you showed up in your underwear. Actually, he’d probably prefer you that way,” he commented, dodging the stray trainer that was launched at his head, before there was a small, almost inaudible,  
“Can I have that back, please?” and Deaky found himself laughing, picking it up by the laces and swinging it back over to him.  
“Brian, settle,” Deaky hushed, and he could practically see the anxiety buzzing around Brian like an aura, having to bite his lip to avoid saying anything else snarky.  
“Let’s see what you have so far,” Deaky said calmly, and Brian turned to look at him with an almost pained expression on his face.  
“That’s the trouble, Deaks, I haven’t got anything yet!” he almost shouted, vibrating with nervous energy. He was going to have a nervous breakdown if he didn’t calm down, so John intervened.  
“Okay, hush,” he said, squeezing both of Brian’s bare shoulders, “first thing’s first, a nicer pair of underwear, and have you trimmed your-”  
“Deaky!” Brian cut him off, “it’s a first date, I don’t need to… do that!”  
“You never know,” he smirked, and Brian gawked at him.  
“Don’t, John, I’m already a fucking wreck over this, I don’t need to be worrying about my fucking pubes right now!” John laughed, shrugging and nodding.  
“Alright, you’re probably right, though I am going to get you something to put in your hair, it looks like fairy floss,” he commented, wincing as Brian’s hands shot right to his head. Maybe he shouldn’t have pointed it out.  
“It doesn’t does it?” he worried, hands tugging at his strands.  
“It won’t if you stop touching it,” Deaky lied, finding him some hairspray and helping him tame it into a more acceptable shape, before sorting through the clothes on the bed.  
“Alright, here,” Deaky threw him a white and purple striped top, long sleeved with a scooped neck, and a pair of tight white flares, along with his favourite denim jacket. Damn, that was pretty good, he thought.  
“And,” Deaky added, holding up a pair of yellow lace up tennis shoes with a grin. Brian just nodded, a grateful smile on his face, feeling his heart rate slow, just a little.  
“Now, you will need to change your pants for the flares, black under white is never a good look,” he grinned, and Brian nodded, letting out a shaky breath, shooing him out of the room so he could get dressed in privacy.  
He changed his underwear, eyeing himself nervously, wondering if maybe he should do something about - no, no time, and he pushed it to the back of his mind, just managing to button his too-tight trousers, pulling on his shirt, debating between tucked and untucked, deciding it looked smarter tucked in, having to hold his breath to bend over and tie his laces. He shrugged on his jacket, taking a deep breath as he looked in the mirror, not too bad, he thought He hurriedly coated on another layer of deodorant, just in case, before braving the living room where Deaky was waiting for him.  
“Shirt tucked in - too much?” he asked, doing a quick spin with his arms out, seemingly holding his breath. Deaky just rolled his eyes.  
“You look lovely, Brian, really,” he said, voice full of confidence, and it put Brian at ease. Well, until he heard the doorbell ring, and he almost jumped out of his skin.  
“Oh my god, he’s early,” Brian hissed, eyes widening to the size of dinner plates, and Deaky rolled his eyes.  
“Brian, honestly,” he scoffed, “he’s been here a million times, you two have shared a bed more times than I have fingers, go let him in,” he sighed, and Brian jumped to it, meeting Roger at the door, almost having the breath knocked out of him.

He. Looked. Divine.

His hair was freshly washed, fluffy and clean and smelling deliciously of apples, his shirt was far too unbuttoned, and his pants were far too tight, and velvet, and striped, and far too flared to be practical. He was wearing that awful fur coat, and those stupid rainbow suspenders, and his even stupider pink glittery trainers, on anybody else it would look a right mess, and yet Brian couldn’t pick out a single flaw, practically collapsing against the doorframe.  
“Hi,” he managed to squeak out, trying not to look too much like a giggly teenager, and Roger grinned at him.  
“You ready to go?” he asked, batting his ridiculously long eyelashes down onto his cheeks, and Brian had to remember how to breathe.  
“Yeah, yes, I’m - let’s go,” he stammered over his words, nodding. Roger practically rolled his eyes, not unkindly, calling into the house to say hello, and goodbye to Deaky, leading Brian to the van.  
Brian had been in Roger’s van a million times, usually with the others, though, and this time it felt different, more intimate, Brian noticed he’d even cleaned the chocolate wrappers out of the console and had put in a softer tape than he usually had playing.  
“This place is great, apparently,” Roger started chatting away, and Brian noticed something, was he trying to make his voice sound deeper? He smiled to himself at the thought, relaxing a little bit when he realised that Roger was probably nervous too, deciding, though, that there was no way he could be as nervous as Brian. His deep set eyes were deceptive, he had naturally heavy eyelids, making him almost always look relaxed, and he just had an air of confidence surrounding him that drove Brian wild.  
“-used to have to drive all the way into London to find a sexy roller date,” Brian dropped back into the conversation, snorting a little.  
“A sexy roller date,” Brian repeated, earning a grin from Roger.  
“Mm, but I’ve got all the sexy roller date I need right here, and I didn’t even have to leave campus,” he grinned, reaching over to squeeze his knee, and Brian found himself blushing. They chatted idly until they arrived, Brian calming down a little bit, trying to remind himself that this was Roger, and he had nothing to be nervous about. The blonde practically lived in his lap every time they went away to play a gig, and cracked filthy jokes that could make a sailor blush, and made absolutely imbecilic comments that Brian just couldn’t manage to be cross about. But now… that dynamic was shifting, at least somewhat, because this was an actual date, Roger had said so himself, and his heartbeat was speeding up again.  
It took them a while to find a decent park, it was Friday night so there were plenty of people crowding the new spot, and his van was a little wide to fit into the regular spots between cars, so Roger, hotheaded as ever, gave up and parked in the handicapped spot, muttering to himself. Brian tried not to say anything, but he couldn’t hold it in.  
“Rog, these spots aren’t here for you,” he said gently, and Roger shot him a withering look.  
“What’s someone in a wheelchair going to be doing at the roller rink, Brian?” he asked, sounding exasperated, and as wrong as it was, Brian couldn’t stifle a laugh. Roger just grinned at him.  
“Made ya laugh, you can’t be cross with me anymore,” he teased, and Brian rolled his eyes. He was right, too.

After a brief argument over who would pay, Brian had won, pulling out his wallet and almost throwing a tenner at the lady and earning them both a fancy looking hand stamp, Roger confidently waltzed up to the skate rental booth, stating his shoe size loudly and banging his pink trainers down. Brian wondered when he’d had time to take them off. A pair of white roller skates were thumped down on the bench in front of them in return, and he took them, slipping his coat off and sitting down to lace himself in.  
“Erm, size 10, please?” Brian tried, the man behind the counter lazily dropping the pair of white skates onto the bench, holding out his hand expectantly. It took Brian a second to realise what he wanted, and he jumped, letting out a small  
“Oh,” when he realised, toeing off his trainers and handing them over, realising, embarrassingly, that he hadn’t worn matching socks. Roger didn’t seem to notice, too busy meticulously lacing up his skates. Brian sat beside him, wondering if there was really a proper way to do it, or if Roger was just trying to look fancy. He decided it was almost definitely the latter, lacing them up like he would a pair of docs, glancing up when Roger stood, seeming to glide gracefully past him. His heartbeat sped up again.  
“You okay?” Roger asked, watching him curiously as he stared into the distance.  
“Yeah, oh, yeah sure. I’ve just not roller skated before so I’m… well, at the moment I suppose I’m trying to figure out how to stand up without killing myself,” he laughed, trying to play it off like he wasn’t shitting himself, and he caught Roger smiling affectionately.  
“Here, I’ll give you a hand,” he smiled, looking rather proud of himself, holding out his hand. Brian gratefully took it, shakily getting to his feet. It wasn’t so bad, he thought, he only really felt a few inches taller, which was nothing, compared to his already towering height. Brian noticed Roger eyeing his legs up and down, looking almost dazed, before snapping his attention back up to Brian.  
“Ready to give it a go?” he asked. Shit, Brian had forgotten about that part. If he was honest, he was perfectly content standing still, he’d have been happy to just watch Roger skate around him, but Roger seemed insistent on making him actually join in. Damn.  
“Yeah, yeah sure,” he nodded, but as soon as he felt himself roll forward, his stomach dropped, and he had to cling to the barrier wall beside him for balance.  
“Shit,” he cursed, and Roger laughed, holding his hand firmly.  
“Come on, we’ll stick to the sides for a bit, I’ll help you,” Roger grinned, holding his hand firmly, taking it slow, guiding him out onto the rink, being careful of the teenagers seemingly whizzing past them. Brian gripped the walls shamelessly, gripping Roger’s hand even harder, glaring at the way Roger seemed to naturally glide about, skating backwards, even, to keep an eye on him.  
“You’re getting it,” he encouraged, easily gliding backwards, scissoring his legs slowly, feet crossing over each other with ease, looking almost too graceful, and Brian rolled his eyes.  
“Yeah yeah,” he grumbled, drowned out by the loud disco music, watching Roger’s feet carefully, before realising how slowly they were moving. Maybe it would help if he actually tried moving his feet instead of pulling himself along by the wall, and he lifted a foot experimentally, almost immediately falling, albeit slowly, to his knees.  
“Oops!” Roger laughed, crouching by him to help him back to his feet. Brian felt like a dick, really. Why he’d agreed to this, he had no idea.  
“You okay?” Roger grinned, helping him back to his feet. He felt like an uncoordinated moron, slowly rising back to his feet, limbs too long and gangly to balance properly.  
“Don’t think it’s really my thing, Rog,” he said with a forced smile, trying not to be too grouchy about it.  
“Oh, come on Brian. Everyone falls the first time, you’ve made it pretty far without cocking up yet. You should have seen my first time,” he grinned, and a smile crept back on his face.  
“Yeah, wish I had, only you’re here watching me mess it all up while you glide around like a fucking swan,” he grumbled, and Roger smiled cockily.  
“Yeah, but I’ve been before. You’re doing great, honest,” he grinned, and Brian rolled his eyes, a small smile forming again.  
“Yeah yeah,” he mumbled, almost shyly, “I do want to watch you a bit though, take a break for a while, my ankles are killing me. I’ll get you a lemon squash?” he offered. Roger grinned.  
“Make it a coke and you have a deal,” his voice was high pitched as he yelled over the music, and Brian nodded, pulling himself to a seat just beside the rink, unlacing his skates, deciding maybe that was enough for a little while, padding over to the concessions stand in just his socks. 

He got them both drinks, thinking about how even for a ridiculous first date, it was going rather well, balancing Roger’s coke on the half wall surrounding the rink, watching him glide over with a grin, hair flowing behind him, taking a long drink from the straw. Brian turned in his seat to watch him, and, ever the show off, as soon as he realised Brian was watching him, he really turned it on.  
Brian watched him with an eyeroll, he couldn’t say he wasn’t impressed, though Freddie probably hadn’t been lying about him practicing at home, watching as he spun around in the centre of the floor. He raised his hands to clap, making sure he could see, and Roger grinned, looking rather red in the face. He could see his chest heaving a bit, he must have been trying rather hard then, which was quite endearing, and he did one last spin to complete his ‘routine’. Only, on the last spin, he saw him wobble a little bit, and his ankle rolled in, and Brian sucked in a breath, his face contorting when he actually heard the sickening crack over the loud music, barely being able to bring himself to look at Roger. His face went through an array of emotions in a fraction of a second, first just looking surprised, then a little embarrassed, then shocked, then finally, realising what had happened, went almost completely white, and Brian was up, running across the floor and crouching by him.  
“Christ Roger! Are you alright?” he asked, taking a knee beside him and placing a hand on his shoulder. He couldn’t answer him, heaving a laboured breath, gulping and looking up to Brian, eyes wide.  
“I-I think…” he trailed off, not being able to bring himself to finish the sentence, giving Brian a horrified look. Brian immediately switched into sensible mode, hushing him with a squeeze to the shoulder, bringing his other knee down so he was properly balanced, reaching for the leg of his pants.  
“Don’t fucking touch it!” he squawked, hands shaking as he pushed Brian’s hand away from him.  
“It’s okay,” he said in a measured voice, “I’m not going to touch it, I just want to have a look and see what the damage is,” he explained. Roger just nodded bravely, looking up at the disco ball spinning from the ceiling as Brian delicately lifted the edge of his flared trousers, eliciting a sharp hiss. That wasn’t a good sign. He looked at Brian's face, being sure not to look at his foot, not sure that he wanted to see what the damage was. From the look on Brian’s face, it wasn’t promising, and an attendant was soon skating over to them, crouching beside the pair.  
“You alright?” he yelled over the music, making a face when he saw Roger’s swelling ankle. It was already turning a deep shade of purple, and it was stuck out at a funny angle. Brian leant over, trying to be subtle so Roger wouldn’t panic, but it was a bit hard with all the music.  
“I think you might need to call an ambulance,” Brian said calmly, even though beneath his facade he felt like he was going to be sick. Roger’s eyes widened even more, if at all possible, and his mouth gaped open.  
“It’s broken!?” he asked, voice seeming to have climbed a few octaves, raspy and raw, and Brian winced.  
“Now, we don’t know that for sure,” he said sensibly. Roger wasn’t having it.  
“But it’s fucking broken isn’t it?!” He shouted. Brian winced again, allowing himself to nod, just once.  
“Think so,” he said, giving him a gentle squeeze on the shoulder. He noticed how badly Roger was trembling, and how his face had gone a sort of grey colour, and he found himself very stuck for ideas on how he could possibly make the situation better. He looked over to the attendant, who had quickly skated off, and was now on the phone, another employee doing their best to clear the rink, and Roger’s face was white and grey and red all at once, and his eyes were darting around, noticing they were pretty much all alone in the middle of the rink, a ring of people surrounding them from the outside, all eyes on him. Roger didn’t mind the spotlight, by any means, but it wasn’t ideal to have about a hundred sets of eyes on him when it was very obvious that he was trying very hard not to cry. Brian felt the need to protect him, suddenly, moving so he was in front of him, shielding him from view, careful to avoid his ankle, looking deep into his eyes.  
“Rog, hey, you still in there?” he asked gently, getting a pair of dazed baby blues to settle on him.  
“Just watch my stupid fairy floss hair, okay?” he grinned. Roger’s face seemed to fall even further, damn, there went his attempt at humour.  
“I like it,” he practically pouted, but Brian noticed his eyes drifting to the top of his head anyway.  
“Alright, I’m going to try to get the skate off, okay?” he’d barely finished the sentence, and Roger’s eyes were wide again, his head shaking madly.  
“No, don’t, it’ll hurt!” he insisted, eyes brimming with unshed tears.  
“I know,” Brian tried his best to make his voice sound comforting as he reached for his laces, “but it’ll be easier now than later, hm?”  
That seemed to have convinced him, maybe, and he nodded once, eyes back on the disco ball, until he realised it was making him feel nauseous, eyes falling back on Brian’s hair. He felt Brian tugging at the laces, clearly trying his best to be gentle, but it wasn’t working, and every movement had Roger crying out.  
“Stop, stop!” he cried, two fat tears managing to escape and roll down his cheeks, and Brian pulled his hands away.  
“Stop I’m going to be sick!” he complained, bringing his hand up to wipe the tears away, hoping not too many people saw.  
“Are you really?” Brian asked, looking a bit panicked, and Roger nodded, shoulders shaking.  
“Alright, that’s fine, love,” he said softly, moving back up beside him, deciding anything to do with touching his ankle was a bust.  
“It’s alright if you are,” he assured him, his hand moving to his back, rubbing it soothingly up and down. Roger practically collapsed into him, curling in on himself, exploding into tears. Brian winced, wrapping his arms around him and holding him there, careful not to jostle him, rubbing his thumb in circles on his shoulder.  
“There we go, that’s okay. The ambulance will be here in a minute and--” he was cut off as Roger leaned to the side, heaving, before spewing coke and ham sandwich all over the floor beside them. Brian just grimaced, gently as he could shuffling them away, trying not to look too disgusted. He hushed him, surprisingly not really minding when Roger curled back into his chest, rubbing his face, wet with sick and tears and snot, all over one of his best shirts. He just curled his arms around him, securing him against him, doing his best to calm him. It wasn’t working, so he worked on making himself as calm as possible, running his hand over Roger’s soft, if not a little sweaty, hair, taking deep breaths as he spoke (hopefully) comforting nonsense to him.

He looked up to see two paramedics heading towards them, stretcher and all, a little extreme, Brian thought. He waved them over, as if they couldn’t see them, he scolded himself, gently squeezing Roger’s shoulder to get his attention.  
The paramedics introduced themselves as politely as possible, getting almost nothing in response from Roger, and Brian left them for just a second to run to get their coats and shoes, knowing Roger would be devastated if he lost his beloved trainers. When he made it back to Roger, he was looking around like a lost puppy, shoulders dropping a little when he saw Brian, and one of the paramedics was giving him an injection. Painkillers, probably, Brian thought. Roger swore when one of them reached for his ankle, brandishing a large pair of scissors.  
“Going to have to cut it off mate,” one of them said to Roger, and he swore again.  
“And I’m going to have to pay for it!” he replied with a scowl, swearing again as they cut into the thick leather. The paramedic apologised, and Brian felt his hand being squeezed like it was in a vice, almost losing his balance, having to figure out his trainers with one hand. He managed to slip them on, stepping on the backs of the heels, he could practically hear his mother screaming at him for that, and he rose as Roger was lifted onto the stretcher, looking much more relaxed than before, eyes searching around loopily. Brian followed him to the ambulance, Roger not relinquishing his grip on his hand for a second.  
“So,” Roger mumbled as he was loaded into the back of the ambulance, Brian finding a seat beside him, watching as they listened to his heartbeat and took his blood pressure.  
“That was a pretty… a pretty fucking awful first date,” Roger slurred, looking up at Brian with a goofy grin, cheeks still tearstained, a bit of sick on his shirt, but not looking any less gorgeous. Brian smiled adoringly, realising with a gulp that he’d stupidly already fallen head over heels for him. He let his hand fall down onto his face, cupping his cheek. His thumb traced his cheekbone as Roger’s eyes listed lazily about the ambulance, finally settling back on Brian’s face after a good look around. Brian just grinned, dropping a kiss on his forehead, earning an even bigger, dopier grin from him.  
“You know what love?” he asked, finding his hand back in his hair, struggling to find a single flaw in the evening, despite everything that had happened, proving he was absolutely bonkers for him.  
“I think it was just perfect.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before ya'll @ me about the wheelchair comment plz note that I'm literally in a wheelchair ok thank u  
> Please drop any fic requests down below PLEASE, really loving writing Queen atm in particular Maylor and Deacury and especially h/c and sickfics ok thx bye


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The follow up hospital chapter. Nothing happens but I like fluff and sweetness so here it is

The ride to the hospital was… interesting. Roger would not stop trying to grab at Brian’s hair, and he was calm and woozy and smiley, until, of course, the paramedics started trying to cut the skate off again. They’d managed to get one off the _other_ foot without too much fuss, but when they’d turned their attention back to his almost grotesquely swollen ankle, despite the borderline lethal dose of morphine they’d given him, they’d earned a sharp yelp, and Roger had started trying to throw fists at the poor bloke.

“Roger, Roger!” Brian sighed, grabbing his wrists to hold him down. He’d expected him to be weak as a kitten from the morphine, but he was quite the opposite, really, fighting back against Brian with little restraint. He had to actually stand over him and use his body weight to hold his hands down while the paramedic cut the boot off, shooting him an apologetic look. He heard Roger yell, his voice probably alerting all the dogs in the area to their presence, and looked down at him to see his cheeks re-wet with tears, bags beneath his eyes, smeared with what looked to be dark eyeliner, because _of course_ he’d worn eyeliner. He let out a shuddering sob as the boot was finally yanked free, and Brian dropped back into the seat beside him, deflating and leaning forward to get closer to him. He wasn’t the world’s best comforter, that spot was pretty much reserved for Freddie, but he’d do his best. Seeing Rogers teary, too bright eyes searching around the back of the ambulance, looking weary and confused, mouth agape and twisted into a pained wail, hurt Brian somewhere deep inside his chest. He reached out his hand and let it hover over him for a moment, before settling back in his hair, hushing him and running his finger tips over his scalp. That seemed to work, and he calmed a little bit, noticing Roger’s gaze settling back on Brian, a very confused look on his face.“Why…” was all he managed to slur out, before dropping his head back on the pillow.  
“You’ve hurt your foot,” was all Brian had to murmur, and Roger gave him a surprised little“Oh,” and let his head roll back to look at the roof. Brian took his outstretched hand, rubbing the back of it with his large thumb, drifting back into his own thoughts.

He wished he hadn't. He was going to _have_ to call Freddie to let him know where Roger was or he’d worry himself sick and there would be hell to pay if he _didn’t_ call the second he had the chance. _And_ he had to work out how to get the van back, Roger wouldn’t be driving for a while and it couldn’t sit at the roller rink for a month. Brian couldn't leave him alone to get it himself, either. Fuck, why did Roger have to be a prick and park in the handicapped spot? He was going to get a ticket, and that would be something else for Roger to throw a frypan over. He’d have to get someone to come to the hospital to get the van keys, and then go pick it up, Deaky might do it - Freddie didn’t drive - _maybe,_ if he offered to pay his cab fare to the hospital and back to the roller rink? It was Friday night, so there was a good chance he’d be out, (the cab fares would be _ridiculous,_ he thought,) but he could hope. And then what was he going to do about poor Roger? He felt so guilty, even though it wasn’t his fault. He was going to have to follow him around for weeks carrying his books and his satchel for him, he couldn’t do it himself if he needed crutches, or worse, a wheelchair. Maybe it was karma for parking in the spot? He wouldn’t really mind having to follow him around, he thought, it would just be an excuse to spend even more time with him, albeit not in the way he’d hoped. He heard a door click open, and he was brought back into the real world, realising they were at the hospital. Roger was smiling up at him dopily, eyes blinking unevenly, and he reached up to knot a hand in Brian’s hair, clammy hands catching in his curls and managing to pull out a sizeable clump. Brian winced, holding back a yelp, knowing he hadn’t meant it. Roger just looked at the strands of loose hair tangled around his fingers, mouth dropping open with a wet pop.  
“Oh no,” he mumbled, and Brian managed a smile, pulling his hands free from the tangled strands.  
“That’s enough,” he said gently, firmly pressing his hands down by his sides to stop them from wandering. It worked for about two seconds, before his hand was on his own face, squeezing his nose.  
“D’ya think it’s too big?” he mumbled, head rolling to the side to look at Brian. He gave him a smile and shook his head softly.  
“Oh, good,” he nodded, wrinkling his nose a little, “I didn’t think so but… your opinion’s ‘portant,” he slurred. He proceeded to ask him about every feature of his face, earning a chuckle from Brian, and his hand found his now messy, blonde mop again, smoothing it to calm him down.  
“Your face is fine,” Brian said, “better than fine, love,” he added, earning a proud looking smile.  
“You think I’m pretty?” Roger asked with a silly smile, and Brian nodded, and Roger gave him the loopiest, toothiest grin he’d ever seen.  
“Of course I do,” he followed as Roger was lifted out of the ambulance and wheeled into the emergency department, wincing at the bright lights and the stinging smell of antiseptic. Roger squinted under the lights, bringing up his arm to cover his eyes.  
“Turn ‘em off,” he grumbled with a scowl, and Brian smiled.  
“Don’t think we can turn off all the lights in the emergency department love,” he smiled fondly, following behind him as they found him a bed.  
“Bullshit, they can but they just _won’t_ ,” he said accusingly, shooting Brian a pointed look. He laughed at that, before wincing as he cried out in pain as he was moved to a proper bed.  
“Look, I can turn the lights off in here,” he said, turning the lights off in the small room, earning a pleased look from Roger.  
“At least someone around here listens to me,” he mumbled. Brian wasn’t sure what that meant, and he just hovered over the bed, watching as his eyes moved around independently. He was sure that it was a side effect from the morphine, but it was pretty unnerving.

“Rog, I’ll be back in a minute, I’ve got to go and phone Freddie,” he said, not expecting the loud wail that followed.  
“Noooo!” Roger cried out, face crumpling, reaching out a hand to grab Brian wherever he could, managing to catch a fistful of his jacket, tugging him forcefully back towards the bed, managing to cork his thigh on the side railing.  
“Ow, Rog, what?” he asked, trying not to sound annoyed.  
“Don’t gooo,” he said, a sob escaping his lips.  
“Rog, I think you’re overreacting a little bit, I’m just going into the hall for five minutes, I’ll be _right_ back,” he tried to convince him, but Roger wasn’t having it. He was so upset, in fact, that he kicked his legs down against the bed, seeming to momentarily forget about his ankle. He didn’t forget for long, letting out a high pitched wail when it made contact, and Brian winced.  
“Rog, jesus christ,” he muttered, holding his leg just below the knee, “calm down, please,” his voice was stern and sensible again, and Roger looked to him with a whimper.  
“Now, I _am_ going to go out into the hall, just there,” he pointed to the doorway, “to ring Freddie to let him know where you are. He’s probably going to want to come in, is it okay if he does?” he asked. Brian noticed Roger’s bottom lip wobbling a little bit, but he nodded.  
“Alright, I’ll be right back. In fact, I’ll stand in the doorway so you can see me, alright?” he asked, keeping his voice calm and kind, giving Roger’s shoulder a squeeze. He just nodded, not looking up at him, and Brian felt a touch guilty. He leant down to press a quick kiss to Roger’s cheek, earning a small smile in response, before ducking out into the hall. He found a coin for the phone, quickly dialling Freddie and Roger's number, praying he was home and stretching the cord to its threshold so he could stand in the doorway. Roger’s face brightened just a little bit when he saw Brian reappear, sitting up a little, doing his best to bat his eyelashes at him, giving him what Brian was sure Roger thought was a sexy wave. It wasn’t, and Brian just wiggled his fingers back at him in response, wincing as it seemed the phone was going to ring out.

“Hello?” Freddie sounded out of breath, and a little bit annoyed, but Brian had never been as relieved to hear his voice in his life.  
“Freddie, thank god, you’re home,” he breathed, slouching against the doorframe, not realising how tense he had been.  
“Yes, of course darling. Is everything alright? Oh! Are you still out with Rog? How’s it going?” his voice had perked up, and he was quick firing questions at him. Brian had to hush him to get a word in edgeways.  
“Freddie… Freddie, Fred!” Brian managed to get his attention. “Freddie listen, I’m at the hospital with Roger, he’s--”  
“Oh my god!” he interrupted, “what on earth have you done to him!?”  
“Shut up, Freddie!” Brian pleaded, and he heard him go silent.  
“We’re at the hospital, Rog’s hurt his ankle, and it’s probably, _well_ , more than likely broken,” he explained, and he heard Freddie gasp on the other end of the phone.  
“I just thought I’d let you know where he is in case you got worried that he hadn’t come home, looks like we might be here pretty late,” he continued, hearing Freddie groan on the other end of the phone.  
“Christ, alright, is he okay?” he asked, and Brian could hear the worry evident in his voice.  
“Yeah, he’s pretty doped up right now so he’s out of it, but he's not in much pain which is good. He’ll get an xray soon and hopefully they’ll just have to bandage it up or whatever and he can come home,” he assured him, and he heard rustling around on the other end of the line.  
“I’ll be down there in ten minutes darling, have you eaten yet? Oh you must be starving, I’ll bring you both something, what do you fancy?” Freddie flapped.  
“I don’t think Rog is allowed to eat anything, and I’m fine, I need to call Deaky to go and get the van and he can grab something on the way if I get desperate,” he said.  
“Oh, Deaky..?” Freddie asked, almost nervously, and Brian didn’t quite know what he was getting at.  
“Yeah, Deaky? The van’s still down at the roller rink and Roger’s parked in a handicapped spot so I need him to go and pick it up,” he explained, hearing a sharp intake of breath on the other end of the line.  
“Oh, well, you can talk to him if you like, he’s erm… he’s here,” he said, sounding a little… sheepish? Brian didn’t even want to know.  
“Yeah, alright, put him on,” Brian sighed, not all that keen for later, when Freddie would inevitably explain exactly what Deaky was doing at his house on a Friday night sounding so out of breath.  
“Yeah?” came Deaky’s voice, sounding more annoyed than Freddie had.  
“Hey, Deaks,” Brian sighed, eyes trained on Roger, watching as he fumbled with the thankfully stainless steel flower vase he'd discovered on the cabinet beside his bed.

“Rog - Roger! Put it down, please,” he interrupted himself, watching as Roger looked over at him with surprise, then a sheepish grin, seeming to have forgotten he was there. With his attention on Brian, he managed to drop vase on the linoleum floor with a loud clatter. Brian just shut his eyes for a brief moment, trying to keep himself calm, zoning back into Deaky’s voice and trying not to watch as Roger reached between the bars of the bed for the vase.

“Brian, you still there,” Deaky’s voice called.  
“Yeah, shit, sorry. Look, there’s been a bit of an incident, Freddie will explain it, are you going to be able to come to the hospital and then swing by the roller rink and get the van, please?” Brian practically begged. He heard a long sigh, and Freddie’s voice murmuring something in the background.  
“Yeah, okay,” he said simply, and Brian thanked his lucky stars that Deaky was so low drama, well, compared to the rest of his friends anyway.  
“You want me to put you back onto Freddie?” he asked.  
“No, no I’ve got to go back to to Roger he’s being a nuisance,” he grinned, looking over and seeing him leaning behind the bed, playing with a valve on the wall.  
“Roger, no! Deaky, sorry, I’ll see you soon,” he hung up without saying goodbye, practically sprinting back into the room and wrenching his hand away from the O2 valve, earning another, just as surprised look.  
“Brian!” Roger grinned, looking up at him with stars in his eyes, clearly having forgotten about him again.  
“What are you doing playing with those knobs?” Brian cursed himself internally when he realised what he’d said, earning a playful grin and an eyebrow wiggle from Roger.  
“Shut up,” he sighed, glad that he probably wouldn't remember that one, sitting back down beside him and taking his hand to keep him out of trouble.  
“I called Freddie, he and Deaky are going to come down to see you,” he explained, getting a sense that Roger wasn’t listening at all. He was right.

“Do you know why they’re called biscuits?” Roger asked cryptically, face contorting in concentration, and Brian raised an eyebrow.  
“What do you mean?” he asked, wondering if he actually had rhyme or reason to anything he’d said.  
“Well, just, why are… why is anything called anything, you know? They could have called them whatever they wanted… why biscuits? Or, you know, tea, or bed or curtain…” he slurred, looking around the room, doing a marvellous job of naming all the objects he could see.  
“My parents could have called me Earl,” he added, and Brian had to laugh.  
“Yeah, yeah they could have, but I think Roger suits you better,” he assured him.  
“I think I should have been named… like… maybe Joseph,” he furrowed his eyebrows, looking up at him.  
“No, Rog, I like you as Rog,” he said reassuringly, hand resting against his chest to settle him. He was spouting absolute nonsense now, which Brian found a bit too cute, and he shushed him.  
“You’re perfect as Roger,” he said softly, and Roger gazed up at Brian like he hung the moon and the stars.  
“You think I’m perfect?” Roger asked. He spat the ‘p’ in perfect a little too much, spraying Brian’s face, but he just nodded down at him, not minding a bit.  
“Mmhm,” he nodded, hand finding Roger’s jaw, tracing his jawline with his thumb, gazing at him with all the love in his heart.

“Do you think they’ll have to cut it off?” Roger asked suddenly, shattering the moment. Brian tilted his head at him.  
“What?!” he laughed. Roger gestured down to his leg, looking very concerned, waving his hands about.  
“My foot! What if I… oh god what if I’ve broken it _off_ !?” he panicked, sitting up quickly to look, tilting dangerously to the side. Brian was glad the bed had rails.  
“Careful, love,” he warned, helping him lay back down, making sure his pillow was under his head properly, “it’s still attached.”  
“What if they chop it off without telling me!?” he fretted, trying to sit up again. Brian held him down, shaking his head.  
“I’ll tell you what’s going to happen, okay? They’re going to xray it and check if it’s badly broken, then they’re going to give you some medicine to stop it hurting while they make sure it'll heal right, and put a bandage on it, alright?” he explained. He didn’t seem to have captured Roger’s attention too well, and he looked back up at Brian from where his gaze had been drifting around the room as he spoke, blinking slowly.

“Thirsty,” he said simply, and Brian rolled his eyes. He was glad he'd given him such a thorough explanation.  
“Great. Alright, hang on,” he stood up, going out in the hall where he’d seen a water cooler when he'd called Freddie, filling a flimsy plastic cup with cold water.  
“Here, just sip it okay? I don’t think you’re supposed to have anything to eat or drink but nobody’s been around to see you yet so they can get stuffed,” he mumbled, suddenly very aware that they’d been alone in the room for more than half an hour, getting almost a little pissed off at that, before telling himself he was being silly, they were probably very busy with more urgent patients, calming himself down again. He held the cup to his lips, helping him sit up a little bit, letting him sip the water.  
“Cold!” Roger exclaimed, jerking his head back, giving him an almost disgusted look. Brian actually had to shut his eyes for a minute and find his happy place to stop himself from yelling at him. _He's drugged up, it's not his fault,_ he reminded himself, taking a calming breath.  
“Yes, what did you expect?” he asked through the gritted teeth of a forced smile. Roger wasn’t having it, though, screwing up his nose.  
“Warm it up,” he insisted, squirming out of Brian’s grip to try sitting up on his own, eyes going wide.  
“Room… room’s moving,” he mumbled, and Brian had to stifle a laugh.  
“Mmhm. Here we go, we’ll get you a bit more comfortable,” he made the bed sit up, leaning him back against it, earning a very satisfied sigh from Roger.  
“That’s better,” he nodded, eyes darting to the doorway.

“Freddie!” Roger called suddenly, sitting bolt upright, and Brian had to hold him down to stop him from jumping up and running into his arms. Freddie practically ran over to him instead, scooping him into his arms for a cuddle.  
“Oh, Rog!” Freddie cried, and Brian wasn’t sure if Roger could breathe he was holding him that tight.  
“My poor darling, are you alright?” he cooed, rocking him back and forth in his arms.  
“I think I broke my leg,” Roger mumbled into his chest, voice muffled by the fabric of Freddie's jumper.  
“Ankle,” Brian corrected, but neither of them paid him any attention.  
“My poor little sweetheart,” Freddie crooned sweetly, holding his head to his chest and stroking his hair, and Roger was in tears again. This time though, they seemed to be no more than crocodile tears, brought on by Freddies over dramatic fussing, but Brian let it go. He felt a large hand on his shoulder, whipping his head around quickly to see Deaky standing behind him.

“He okay?” he asked, raising an eyebrow, gesturing towards the ‘moving’ display.  
“Yeah, he’s had a big shot of probably morphine, though, so he’s a bit…” Brian waved his hand around. Deaky nodded.  
“Had his xray yet?” he asked, seemingly making up for all the sensible that Freddie had lost. He was preoccupied with finger combing Roger’s hair and dabbing at his eyes with a kleenex, making sure his blankets were tucked in smoothly.  
“No, actually, I think--”  
“What!? He’s been here for hours!” Freddie exaggerated, head whipping around, “I’m off to find a nurse this instant! How ridiculous!” Brian just winced, knowing there wasn’t much use trying to stop him once he got worked up, letting him rush off down the hall dramatically.  
“Van keys?” Deaky asked with a little sigh, holding out his hand. Brian fished in Roger’s coat pocket, and Roger watched him looking a little miffed.  
“Don’t take my gum,” he mumbled, making sure to punctuate his request with a whine. Brian rolled his eyes.  
“Don’t!” he insisted, craning his neck to watch Brian's hands.  
“I’m not taking your bloody gum,” Brian promised, handing Deaky the van keys, watching him wave a quick goodbye and rush back out the door. Roger didn’t look convinced at all, and Brian had to pull the pack of gum out of the coat pocket and show him it was still in there before he would relax. Freddie returned with a kind, slightly apologetic looking nurse in tow. She wasted no time doing a quick set of vitals on Roger, not bothering with any smalltalk, clearly in a hurry. Thanks to whichever god had been listening, Roger behaved for her, and didn’t complain too much as he was wheeled away from them for his xray, finally, waving like he was being taken to be executed. Freddie looked a little bit too proud of himself, Brian thought.  
“You really do need to take some initiative, Brian,” Freddie smirked, and Brian rolled his eyes.  
“Yes, yes, you were very good, thank you,” he sighed. Freddie just sat back in an uncomfortable looking plastic chair, folding his arms over his chest, looking annoyingly smug.  
“What did he even _do,_ Brian?” Freddie asked after a beat, eyeing him like it was his fault that his flatmate was a complete show off. Brian regaled him with the tale as simply as he could, earning horrified gasps and wide eyed stares from Freddie.  
“Oh my god he’s an _idiot_ ,” Freddie groaned, drawing his hand down his face.  
“He’ll… he’ll be alright, though?” Freddie asked him, gazing up at Brian, looking almost ill with worry.  
“He’ll be _fine,_ ” Brian assured him, “he’ll be a bigger arse than usual, but fine.”

The conversation dipped then, which Brian didn’t mind, he needed a moment to process the events of the night and let his brain catch up, and Freddie was content to flip through a magazine. Deaky was back before Roger, which was a bit bizarre, and he was waving a little pink piece of paper. Brian cringed, knowing exactly what it was.  
“Parking ticket,” he said, confirming Brian’s worries, slipping it to Freddie.  
“Oh, for god’s sake Rog,” he groaned, dipping his head down to avert his eyes, passing it to Brian wordlessly. His mouth dropped open when he read the amount.  
“10 pounds!?” He gasped, almost dropping the slip on the floor, “that’s almost a weeks wages… how could it possibly be that much?”  
“Private property Bri, they can charge what they want,” Deaky shrugged.  
Freddie looked to Brian, then to Deaky with a look of helplessness on his face.  
“We can’t let him see it,” Freddie said suddenly, snatching it back and shoving it into his pocket, suddenly becoming fiercely protective of Roger, for whatever reason Brian wasn't sure, “we’ll all just chip in and he won’t have to know anything about it.”  
“He’ll get a letter, Fred, besides, Brian and I have to pay rent this week, and he was the idiot who decided to park in the bloody handicapped space,” Deaky reminded him, his hands finding Freddie’s shoulders and smoothing over them slowly. Brian eyed the pair, feeling it would be rude to ask.  
“No! I won’t let him see it, he’s been through enough tonight!” Freddie protested, and Deaky sighed.  
“Alright, just, we’ll work something out. I can do a few more fix up jobs and maybe Brian can pick up another shift at the bakery, and you’ve got that jacket you’ve been debating selling,” Deaky soothed, kissing the back of his hand, and Freddie seemed to calm down at that, looking up at him lovingly.  
“I suppose this _is_ as good a sign as any,” he sighed, “it’s a lovely jacket but, for Rog,” he finished bravely.

At that, Roger was wheeled back into the room, bound in plaster half way up his leg.   
“For me?” he asked groggily, looking over to the trio.  
“Yes darling, anything for you,” Freddie smiled softly, flitting over to Roger to fuss some more.  
“You got your cast on Rog?” Deaky asked, not really looking for an answer.  
“ _Deaky?_ ” Roger said, sounding very surprised, “didn’t know you were there,” he mumbled. Deaky rolled his eyes.  
“I’ll have to get my paints out and make it nice and pretty for you love,” Freddie fussed, Brian wished he wouldn’t, he was spoiling him. Besides, Brian wanted to be the one cuddling him and fussing. The doctor came in after a moment, briefing them all, speaking mostly to Freddie as he was his flatmate, giving instructions for the next few days and weeks, letting them know he’d be quite out of it for a little while.  
“That’s nothing new,” Deaky commented. Brian just nodded with a smile, giving Roger a little cuddle when he made a noise.

They managed to get him in a wheelchair, and to the van with his new crutches without too much fuss, getting him bundled into the back seat between Freddie and Brian. Brian was quite pleased with himself when he chose to cuddle up to him instead of Freddie, and Freddie shot him a knowing look. Deaky drove, turning the radio up just a little bit to drown out the silence, taking the foggy back streets to Freddie and Roger's flat. Freddie had suggested Brian and Deaky just spend the night over, seeing as it was nearly 2 in the morning, and they were both more than happy to oblige. Roger stared out the window with his head on Brian’s chest, the picture of contentment - he would be until his painkillers wore off, and then it would be back to near constant whining again.  
“Brian?” Roger’s small, sleepy voice spoke up, tired eyes searching for his face in the dark.  
“Mm?” he smiled down at him, dropping a kiss onto his forehead.  
“Can we try again?” he asked nervously, chewing his lip. Brian frowned, tilting his head in confusion.  
“What do you mean?” Brian asked, stroking his hair fondly.  
“Our date… it didn’t go how I wanted,” he mumbled, sounding miserable.  
“No?” Brian smiled, gently cupping his chin and tilting his head back up to look at him. Freddie was pretending not to listen, and Deaky just wasn’t particularly interested, focusing on the drive ahead.  
“No… I don’t want it to ruin anything,” he mumbled, and Brian had to hold back a smile.  
“Ruin anything?” he asked, thumb tracing circles on his shoulder, “does it look like you ruined anything?” He kissed his forehead again, just to reassure him. Roger gave him a stupid grin, wiggling his eyebrows at him.  
“Mm… you must really love me,” he slurred, resting his head back down on his chest contentedly, eyelids slipping shut.  
"You said knob," he added with a grin as he drifted off. Brian laughed softly, resting his lips atop his head, looking at the absolutely ridiculous man that yes, he had _absolutely_ fallen in love with, and he wouldn't have it any other way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sweet the end of my first fic, comin at ya soon with some more terrible writing feat. angst. Also I tried to look up inflation/conversion rates for the early 70's but it was very hard and I am very lazy so that's what I came up with.  
> Hit me up if u have any ideas/requests pls

**Author's Note:**

> Before ya'll @ me about the wheelchair comment plz note that I'm literally in a wheelchair ok thank u
> 
> Please drop any fic requests down below PLEASE, really loving writing Queen atm in particular Maylor and Deacury and especially h/c and sickfics ok thx bye


End file.
